She called up Frankie.
“Hello, Mia. What can I do for you?”
“What kinds of things are there to do here that don’t involve skiing or snowboarding?”
“A lot. I need more direction.”
“Anything that is safe for a person with a concussion.”
“You entertaining pretty boy?”
“I’m going to try. He’s upset because he can’t ski. Can you get me a list of things we could do? I have that resort credit I need to use.”
“On it, love. I’ll be up in an hour with a list of so many things he’ll forget he even has friends.”
“Thanks.”
She hoped Tristan would be willing to go out with her. He’d been cool to her, but she’d seen the desire in his eyes when she slipped into the hot tub with him. It’d been a long time since a man looked at her that way. Correction. No man had ever looked at her like that.
Especially a man like Tristan.
She shook her head. She was going to make sure he had a good time, but she would not allow herself to think anything else. Aside from a few months of recklessness in college, she’d never had a fling before and she wasn’t about to start now. Those only ended in heartbreak. Even if she tried to tell herself it was just a fling, she’d still fall. If someone was that intimate with her and knew her body in such a personal way, how could she not have feelings for them?
She didn’t know what Frankie was going to come up with for today, but she had to be prepared for it to be outdoors. She chose a white sweater and black skinny jeans, and slid on thick socks.
She put on light makeup and curled her hair, taking a little more care than usual. Not because of any guy. At least that’s what she tried to tell herself. In reality, she wanted to see Tristan’s eyes widen again.
He phone rang, and she rushed to pick it up.
“That was fast,” Mia said.
“It’s going to take some time to put the rest of the schedule together, but we have a cooking class that starts in fifteen minutes. I booked you and Tristan. Now, because I know you aren’t brave enough to go convince him to join you, I’m taking care of that as well. You just need to show up downstairs. The rest is on you, sweetheart.”
“Wait. Frankie, I didn’t mean for you to schedule them. Just give me some ideas.”
“Oh, no, I’m not leaving this in your hands. I’ve got this. Now get your skinny ass down there.”
He hung up, and she stared at the phone. Leave it to Frankie to go overboard. She let out a breath. Well, she was all in now. She took one last look in the mirror and then rushed out of the suite so they didn’t meet at the elevator.
She found the cooking class easily. The room was set up with several tall tables outfitted with all the ingredients, and only two stools. In the back of the room were four large, somewhat frightening industrial ovens, all set to 350 degrees and preheating merrily in their alcove.
When Tristan walked in, she waved frantically with a smile and then wished she hadn’t. She shoved her hand into her lap and wanted to die a little. It was like being an awkward high school student trying to get the popular boy to be her lab partner.
To her relief, he didn’t seem to care. He smiled and sauntered toward her.
“You made cookies,” he said. “I just assumed you could cook.”
“No, it’s baking. It’s completely different, you know.” Way to go Mia, you’re the best conversationalist ever. Another piece of her soul shriveled up, and she looked away, so she could roll her eyes at herself.
A small woman with a white chef’s coat strolled in, grabbed a meat tenderizer, and banged it on the butcher block to bring the group to attention. Once they were settled, she addressed the room. “The regular teacher some of you might have had in the past, Miss Yolanda, is out on maternity leave. I am Chef Magdalena, and I am filling in. Usually, I cook in the restaurant, so the owner has told me I could teach you whatever I wanted.”
Mia tied on the apron she found on the table. She handed the other to Tristan, who looked down at his office casual button down and perfectly creased pants, and tied it on. She wondered why he didn’t dress a bit more casual for this. It was a cooking class after all. Not a board meeting.
“Welcome. Since Christmas is coming, I thought we’d get festive and learn to cook some Romanian foods.” Chef Magdalena smiled, looking more like a fox than a friendly teacher, and the way she gripped her meat tenderizer gave Mia the feeling the woman didn’t like to be ignored.
She held up a dish, and Mia leaned forward to try and see what it was. “This is sarmale. It’s a traditional Christmas dish in my country. And today, we’re going to learn how to make it.”
Mia covered her mouth to hide a laugh when she saw Tristan’s face.
He turned to her with a look of absolute disgust. “That’s not a Christmas dish I’ve ever seen.”
Mia sobered quickly when she realized the situation was less favorable than she thought. “Frankie didn’t tell me this was a Romanian cooking class. I’m a little nervous.”
Tristan suddenly looked worried on top of his disgust. “You’re nervous?”
Mia inspected the ingredients. “Yeah, I don’t usually venture outside of my element. What if I can’t do it?” Her heart rate sped up with the familiar self-doubt.
“If I can attempt to cook that, Mia, you can.” Tristan’s head nod was strong and decisive.
“My hero.” Mia smiled and then flushed. She’d been feeling a little too relaxed with him. She had to quit that. He was not here to start anything with her. He was here because she didn’t want him to sulk the rest of his vacation. Yes, he was good looking. Yes, that oddly out-of-place boardroom outfit made him look smart and put together. But she had no intentions of starting something.
Well, Mia could at least appreciate the company.
They turned their attention to the chef and listened to what they would be doing.
Now, pacing back and forth, whacking the meat tenderizer on her hand, Chef Magdalena was explaining her traditional dish with gusto and anger at the same time. “Sarmale consists of a cabbage leaf stuffed with rice, meat, herbs, and onions. It’s usually served with polenta or cream,” she declared, stopping at the head of cabbage. “It’s a very simple dish to make.”
“Do you think she has fangs?” Tristan asked quietly.
“Why because of the accent?”
When Mia registered what he was saying, she tried not laugh. She looked up to steal a better glance at the chef and see if Tristan’s question bore any further scrutiny. She was surprised to find the woman had disappeared from the behind the butcher block where the ingredients were waiting.
“Yes, and I am going to suck your blood,” Chef Magdalena said from right behind Tristan.
Tristan let out a yelp.
The severe woman stood staring at them. Mia’s eyes widened, and she tried to discern if the woman was joking or not. “Chef,” she said, ready to launch into an apology.
“Call me Magdalena.” She graced Tristan with a toothy grin. “I don’t have fangs, but my mother did. Let’s carry on, shall we?”
Tristan’s face burned bright red. Mia found it endearing, and she couldn’t help but laugh at him, at the whole situation.
Grimacing, Tristan turned to their cabbage on the table. “I’m glad you’re enjoying this,” he said as the chef walked to the front.
She had been checking to make sure everyone had all the ingredients they needed, Mia realized. It had been bad timing on his part that she even heard him.
Mia cleared her throat, regaining herself. “I’m sorry, but that was funny. She was a good sport about it.”
The corners of his mouth ticked up ever so slightly. Progress. She’d get a smile out of him yet.
Which, he immediately squashed.
“Why did you want me to come to this?” He looked around at the other people in the room, and she followed his gaze.
For the first time, she realized they were all couple
s. Some of them were hanging onto each other, and two in the front of the room were stopping every few seconds to kiss. Of course, this was probably something the honeymooning couples did together. She twisted up her lip.
“Okay,” Magdalena called. She had abandoned the tenderizer and clapped her hands this time, satisfied that everyone was well supplied and on their way. “The couple who makes the best dish will win all the ingredients to make this for their friends and family. Good luck.”
Tristan’s breath was hot on her ear. “If you wanted me to do couple’s activities with you, I can think of some others that would have been way more fun.”
His voice was deep and sensual. The hair on her arms stood, and a shiver ran through her. For not the first time that afternoon, she thought that maybe inviting him to spend time with her was a mistake.
Mia glanced at him, his face inches from hers, waiting for her answer. She could still feel the heat of his breath on her skin and willed her body to not react to him. She failed. “Frankie set this up for me. I had no idea you were going to be here.”
He gave her an unreadable look, and she couldn’t tell if he believed her or not.
She quickly busied herself with the ingredients and avoided making eye contact with Tristan. He didn’t seem interested in helping much and was a terrible assistant. He nearly had her use a tablespoon of salt.
Forty-five minutes later, everything was ready to go into the oven with the rest of the class. While they waited for the food to cook, Magdalena passed out cutters in all sorts of festive shapes to cut out cookies. “These are for the children staying at the resort. They want to make sure Santa visits them here.”
That was about the nicest thing Mia had heard. Lucky kids.
When their food was done, they all arranged it on the plates. Mia was pleasantly surprised to see hers was almost identical to Magdalena’s.
“Teacher’s pet,” Tristan leaned in and said.
Mia giggled. “Don’t be salty,” she teased him. He looked angry for a moment, then chuckled with her.
Mia couldn’t help the tension in her chest as Magdalena came to taste their dish. She wanted to win for some reason.
“Okay, I’ve tried everyone’s. I’ll let you know the winner when we’re done with dessert.”
She wiggled her brows and went to a large cooler on the side of the room. She brought out boxes and passed them to each table. This was another set of ingredients, and Mia was thrilled they were going to make something sweet.
She beamed up at Tristan, who was looking at her and the ingredients with enthusiasm.
“Now chocolate, I can get behind,” he said.
“In your dessert box you’ll find all the ingredients for papanasi. It’s a delightful Romanian dessert.”
Tristan sighed in relief. He’d heard of that before. At least, he thought so.
There was something called sour cherry preserve, sour cream, and a type of cheese he didn’t recognize. Why couldn’t it have been chocolate chip cookies? Or even peppermint bark.
This whole thing was turning out to be too much. It was too much work, too much time discussing ingredients, and too much cabbage. He didn’t like cabbage. He always burned it when he’d tried to cook it, and it did bad things to him. Of course, he couldn’t admit that to Mia—not the cooking nor the evil effects that made him give it up.
“Why do you have that look on your face?” Mia gave him a grin. Man, she was pretty, and that smile just made it so much more obvious.
“I don’t know of any sweet that uses sour cream,” he said with a shrug.
“Sour cream pound cake?” she asked, raising a brow.
“Never had that. I was raised by nannies who gave me empanadas for breakfast a lot.”
“While I do love a good empanada, I will have to make you a sour cream pound cake. You’ll never want a regular pound cake again.”
He had been letting his guard down around her, and he couldn’t control it. There was something about her that lifted his spirits, and it was ridiculous that he couldn’t just stop his feelings. He found that he was looking forward to her sour cream cake, which was absurd because he’d never see her again after this trip.
“Look,” she said. “It has sugar, eggs, and flour. Those are normal things for dessert.” Mia pulled everything out and set it all on the table neatly. He could imagine her in his own kitchen doing the same thing. Though maybe without the sweater. He tugged at his collar. He had to stop this.
“So,” Magdalena said, “for your Romanian Cheese Donuts, you can choose to top with the sour cherry preserve, or I have blueberry up here too.”
Tristan saw an opportunity to try and get under Mia’s skin. Maybe get a rise out of her, so he could stop finding himself fawning over her. “So are you going to let me do anything this time?”
“What, was I being a control freak?” she said, and a sad little frown creased her face. “I’m sorry, I’ll let you do everything.” She stepped back, contrite.
Well, this had backfired. Now he had to take over. Pride, man. Ego. So stupid.
The little vampire went through the instructions. He added the sugar and vanilla to the cheese, the baking powder to the flour, and then he wasn’t sure what to do.
“Now you make the donut,” Magdalena said, without any further elaboration.
“Oh, now you just make the donut,” he said, more grumbling. Mia chuckled.
He liked making her laugh even if it was at his expense.
Tristan spent the next few minutes trying to mold the cheese dough into something that resembled a donut. To say it wasn’t going well would have been a massive understatement.
“I don’t want you to think I’m trying to take over.” Mia stepped up and brushed against the back of his arm. “But can I make a small suggestion?”
“Um, sure, why not?” He was trying not to get frustrated with the lump he’d created. He flicked his hand hard and smacked the dough from his hand onto the table with a loud whack.
She grabbed his hands and put them in the flour mixture. He looked at her, surprised by the sudden, purposeful contact.
“Flour will help you mold it better. It will make it easier. Flour your hands and the surface, and the dough will flow.” She dusted his hands over with the powder.
He made the donuts and was actually impressed with himself. Sure, not one of them was the same size as the next, and they were a little lumpy and misshapen, but they looked like donuts.
“Now the fun part,” Magdalena called, “but be careful! The oil is very hot, and you’ll have to take turns.”
Mia spoke quietly to him, standing very close. “If you want me to do it, I was a fry cook in high school. I assume you’ve not been near fryers or devilishly hot oil.”
“Well, that’s where you’d be wrong.” He smiled, secretly thrilled that he could surprise her. “My nannies also taught me how to make churros.”
At the fryer, he expertly dropped them in and fried them perfectly before returning to their station.
“I’m going to go up and get a bowl of the blueberry,” Mia said, and he watched as she walked to the front and had a conversation with Magdalena, who kept looking back at him. He wondered what they were talking about and got bored waiting for her to return.
He skeptically scooped a dollop of sour cream onto each of his donuts. He left one without it, thinking that would be the one he ate. Sniffing the sour cherry, he decided to wait until Mia returned with the blueberry.
He liked the way her hair swung and bounced while she chatted with the chef, but finally, she returned and spooned out the blueberry preserve.
“I also got dark chocolate to put on one since you were so excited about it.” She held out the little container of deep, rich looking chocolate.
He felt a little warmth on his cheeks that she thought about him. She’d be the type that would remember that he liked chocolate chips in his pancakes. It’s been a long time since he ate pancakes. He wanted Mia to make them for him thou
gh.
She put the preserves on all the donuts, and chocolate on the one he’d left the sour cream off of. It ran down her fingers, and she brought one to her mouth. Some of the chocolate got onto her lips, and he had a sudden desire to remove it with his tongue.
She wanted this to be a couple’s activity, so he grabbed her hand and brought it to his lips, giving her every chance to pull away. She watched him, mouth slightly open, shock and delight warring on her face.
And finally, her finger reached his mouth, and he sucked the chocolate off her finger, ever so slowly.
“You missed some,” he said, keeping his voice quiet and low.
The look in her eyes was undeniably heated. So, she did want him. He couldn’t wait to see how far he could push it.
Be careful, a voice in the back of his head said. You don’t need to get involved with her. This is a complication that you just don’t need right now.
He shut down that voice and licked more chocolate off her finger. He grinned. “We wouldn’t want that to go to waste, would we?”
Chapter Fifteen
Of course, they won, so now they had all the ingredients in plastic bags to make sarmale. Tristan also had somehow been able to sweet talk the little vampire into letting him have some of that cheese to make the donuts.
He and Mia rode up the elevator in an awkward silence. Things between them weren’t easy yet, but at least she didn’t think he still hated her.
The dessert was delicious, even the sour cream topping, and his mind had been completely changed. Tasting the chocolate on her skin had been the best part of the whole class, but that was not a smart move.
His arm brushed hers in the elevator, and sparks of awareness shot through his body. He reacted to her in a physical way, and he couldn’t tell if it was purely sexual.
Even though she denied it, he hoped she’d had Frankie set up the class for her to spend time with him. Although he wasn’t sure what the motivation would be behind that.
Christmas and Commitment (Omega Mu Alpha Brothers Book 6) Page 6